Santo Domingo

Imagine a place where the sun warms your shoulders all year long. The big, blue Caribbean Sea sparkles right beside me, and happy music floats through the air. My streets are made of bumpy cobblestones, and my buildings are painted in all the colors of a rainbow—sunny yellow, bright blue, and cheerful pink. For more than 500 years, I have listened to the sounds of laughter and watched children play in my shady plazas. People from all over the world walk my old stone paths. Do you know who I am. I am Santo Domingo, the very first European city in all the Americas.

My story began a very, very long time ago. A man named Bartholomew Columbus, the brother of the famous explorer Christopher Columbus, founded me on August 5th, 1498. At first, I was built on one side of a big river. But just a few years later, in 1502, a giant hurricane swooshed through and knocked down many of my buildings. A new governor named Nicolás de Ovando decided to move me to the other side of the river, where I would be safer. After that, I became a city of many firsts. The very first grand cathedral in the Americas was started here in 1512. I also had the first hospital to help people who were sick and the first university, which opened on October 28th, 1538, so people could come and learn amazing new things. I was a place where everything felt new and exciting.

Being the first and most important city meant that sometimes, I got unwanted visitors. One day, on January 1st, 1586, a pirate named Sir Francis Drake sailed into my harbor. He and his men caused a lot of trouble and made my people very scared. But the people who lived here were strong and brave. After the pirates left, everyone worked together to fix the broken buildings and make me beautiful again. Many years later, in 1844, I had a very proud moment. I became the capital city of a brand new country called the Dominican Republic. It felt like I was standing taller and shining brighter than ever before.

Today, my heart still beats with stories from the past. The oldest part of me is called the Zona Colonial, and it is a very special place. So special, in fact, that in 1990, it was named a UNESCO World Heritage Site, which means the whole world agrees to help protect my history. Families walk my cobblestone streets, listening to the tales my old stones have to tell. At night, the sound of merengue music fills the air, and people dance with big smiles. I am a bridge between long ago and today. I love it when visitors come to feel my happy, sunny heartbeat. Maybe one day, you will come and listen to my stories, too.